User blog:Squibstress/Epithalamium - Chapter 51
Title: Epithalamium Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama, romance Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; teacher-student relationship (of-age); language, violence Published: 23/05/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Fifty-One "I don't need to kill you, Tom." Albus had just finished signing the letter officially offering Archie Sinclair the position of Hogwarts's first flying instructor when he was startled by the sound of his brother's voice from across the room. "You busy, Albus?" Albus got up and went to the fireplace where Aberforth's head was hovering and flickering in the greenish flames that heralded a Floo call. "A bit," he replied, kneeling on the hearth. "Are you alone?" Aberforth whispered. "Yes." "Good. Thought you might want to know that one of those tossers has shown up in my bar again." A kernel of anxiety sprouted in Albus's belly. "How do you know it's one of them?" "Recognise him from before. He's memorable." "What's he doing?" "Having a ginger beer," Aberforth scoffed. "Waiting out the storm, I reckon." Albus glanced out the window where the rain was splattering a sharp tattoo against the glass. The storm had moved in suddenly and ferociously early this afternoon, sending Professors Beery and Kettleburn into parallel frenzies trying to protect their various charges from the onslaught. The afternoon Herbology classes had been enlisted to help move the more delicate plants into one of the greenhouses, while Silvanus had dismissed his classes, and he and Hagrid reinforced and covered over several of the magical stock pens. Filius had cancelled his own classes to help his colleagues cast reinforcing and protective charms around the greenhouses and pens. Albus said, "I imagine so, yes. Nobody is going to be Apparating in this weather." "You want me to do anything about him?" "No. Just keep an eye on him for me. I might come by—under cover—to see what he's up to." Aberforth nodded, and the fire gave a little flare, then he was gone. Damn. It might be nothing, of course—probably was—but Albus wasn't going to take any chances. He and Filius still had not figured out how Riddle had got into the school last spring, a fact which continued to drive Albus nearly mad. If one of Riddle's Death Eaters was in Hogsmeade, it was altogether too close for Albus's comfort. He tried to shrug off his fatigue as he went to his desk and wrote a brief note to Filius to let him know that he was leaving Hogwarts for what he hoped would be a brief errand. After sending a house-elf to deliver the note to the Deputy Headmaster, Albus took his cloak from the stand in the corner. He had decided to use the small door from the west wing rather than the main entrance in order to be less conspicuous in leaving, but it had the disadvantage of being farther from the path to the front gate. Before stepping out into the squall, Albus cast Warming and Impervious Charms, and, after a few moments' thought, decided to cast a Disillusionment rather than an Invisibility Charm in order to conserve his energy for the walk to the Hog's Head. Nearly forty-five minutes later, Albus arrived in Clagg's Row, having been buffeted by wind to the point where he seemed to be taking two steps sideways for every one forward. He pressed himself under the eaves of a building and looked about on the off-chance that some other unlucky sod had reason to be out in this weather. Seeing no one, he cast the Invisibility Charm and made his way down the muddy lane, his boots making squelching noises that he could hear even above the wind and rain. He didn't bother with a Silencing Charm, as there would be no one out to hear the noise, but every few steps, he turned to Vanish the tracks made by his invisible feet, although they'd probably have been washed over by the time anyone ventured far enough out into the lane to notice them. He reached the Hog's Head and crouched down to peer between the broken slats of one of the shutters. The window was filthy and the interior dark, so he couldn't make out anything but a few hazy figures. Albus considered slipping in the back way but decided against it. If the Death Eater left, he'd go by the front door, and it would be difficult, if not impossible, for Albus to slip out behind him unnoticed, even with the Invisibility Charm in place. It was an hour and a half before the storm died down enough for people to begin venturing out, and another twenty minutes until Albus saw the man Aberforth had undoubtedly been referring to step out of the doors from the inn and into the lane. He was heavily cloaked, but it was unmistakably Tom Riddle. Not only had Albus caught a glance of his eerily smooth face as Riddle looked left and right down the street, but the way the young man moved was distinctive. It was as if his joints weren't quite made of bone and sinew, but of water or oil. There was a serpentine quality to his movement, Albus thought, although he recognised this as a biased assessment. Riddle didn't so much turn and walk as undulate around, and Albus wondered again what the young wizard had been doing to himself in the years since leaving school. Whatever it was, it was changing him, that was clear. And terrifying. If Riddle's experiments in "pushing the boundaries of magic", as he had put it, had wrought such outward changes, what had they done to the more important parts of the man—his mind? His soul? As Tom glided past, Albus felt one brief moment of stinging envy despite everything. What discoveries Riddle must have made! Damned. He is surely damned, Albus reminded himself. He didn't believe in hell, but he assuredly believed that a man could suffer the torments of a hellish existence in this lifetime and that he could condemn himself to a kind of everlasting purgatory in which all the terrors and tribulations of a lifetime continued to weigh him down after death, preventing him from moving on; Albus's conversations with Hogwarts's ghosts had convinced him of it. What are you so afraid of, Tom? Thinking Riddle was going to Apparate away, Albus was about to unmask and confront him when Riddle surprised him by reaching into his cloak pocket and pulling out a scrap of parchment, which he studied for a moment before stowing it away again. Riddle drew his cloak more tightly around him and set off down the lane in a southerly direction. Albus let him get about five yards ahead and followed after him, quickly and quietly casting a Silencing Charm to muffle the sound of his steps. Dread began to mount in Albus, quickening his breath and stealing the saliva from his mouth as he followed behind his quarry. By the time Riddle turned into Lochdraoidh Lane, the sound of Albus's heartbeat had nearly drowned out the sound of the rain. He knew the Invisibility Charm was beginning to fail with his distraction; he could see his arms and legs flickering in an out of being as he walked. Riddle stopped in front of Minerva's house and withdrew a small box from his robes. He checked the parchment again and put it back into his pocket. Albus knew it was time when Riddle took a step toward the gate; if he touched it, Filius's charm would activate, and Minerva would know Riddle had been there. Albus ended the Invisibility Charm and shouted: "Tom Riddle!" Riddle whipped around fast enough that the hood of his cloak fell. Even so, his wand was out before he completed the turn towards Albus. When he saw that Albus's wand remained in his pocket, Riddle lowered his, saying, "Following me, Dumbledore?" Albus crossed the lane to stand beside Riddle. "What are you doing here, Tom?" "I came to visit a mutual friend." "She isn't here. It's Thursday. She's teaching. As you well know." Albus stepped around to stand between Riddle and Minerva's gate. "My mistake, then," Riddle said, taking a step back into the lane, just as Albus had intended. "What is that?" Albus gestured at the box Riddle still held in one hand. Sliding it back into his cloak pocket, Riddle said, "It isn't any of your concern." "You're wrong there. If it's something you planned to leave for Minerva, it's very much my concern." "Are you her keeper now, too?" "What is it, Tom?" Albus stepped closer, and Riddle took a step backwards. Albus could see him castigate himself for the show of weakness. Riddle said nothing, and this time when Albus stepped toward him, he stood his ground. "A souvenir from your travels, perhaps?" Albus asked. "If it's charmed or cursed, MLE could have you up on charges. A few months in Azkaban would slow your studies down considerably." Riddle gave a barking laugh. "No, nothing like that. My, you are suspicious when it comes to Minerva, aren't you? Tell me, are you planning to keep her under lock and key once you're married? Like Peter-Peter-Pumpkin-Eater?" Albus kept his face impassive, but his shock was considerable. How did Riddle know about the marriage? Later, Albus thought. I'll think about that later. "What's in the box, Tom?" "A small gift. Call it a wedding present, if you like. And not cursed. A harmless token, in fact. There's no law against a man giving his old school chum a gift, Dumbledore. I doubt even you could make a case for Azkaban on the basis of what's in this box." "Show me, then. Prove it." "I don't need to prove anything to you, old man." Albus could feel the subtle shift in magic in the air, and he grasped hold of Riddle just as the young man began the turn to Apparate. Albus focused his energy as the darkness pressed in on them, and several seconds later, his feet slammed into the wet ground with enough force to drive him to his knees. Riddle crashed down on top of him, and the two men lay in a riot of tangled limbs and yards of damp, musty-smelling wool. Albus hoped nothing was broken—they had hit very hard. He had no time to assess any damage, however, because Riddle was immediately up, wand drawn. "Where are we?" he screamed, and Albus was surprised at the panic in Riddle's voice until he saw that the young man was bleeding heavily from his wand arm, which was shaking badly. Splinched. As he drew his own wand and got to his feet, Albus took a quick mental inventory of his own person. There was no pain, other than a dull ache in his ankles, which had taken the brunt of the hard landing. Apparently, the Splinching was from Tom's initial attempt to Apparate rather than from Albus's redirection. "We're in a field near the village. Let me heal your arm, Tom," he said, raising his wand. "Don't do it, Dumbledore," Riddle said, brandishing his wand with obvious effort. "I can curse you just as well with the other arm," he added, switching his wand to his uninjured side. "I wouldn't recommend it," said Albus. "Just hand over the box, and we're done here. I'll let you go home and lick your wounds." The moment Riddle opened his mouth, Albus cast his protective charm. Riddle cast a curse Albus hadn't heard of, but it hit Albus's defensive shield with a force that sent him backwards a few faltering steps. Still, his protection held. He didn't counter but waited to see what Riddle would do next. With a wide arc of his wand and a roar, Riddle sent a fire-dragon at his opponent. The heat singed Albus's beard, but it wasn't difficult for him to propel it back, forcing it to whirl around the two duellists, sending up clouds of steam where it met the snow-dusted grass. Albus quickly cast another protective charm as Riddle danced about, hurriedly building his own protections. Albus briefly considered sending the fire-dragon back at Riddle, but he opted instead to Vanish it in an implosion that sucked the air briefly from the area and left Riddle clutching at his throat, his lips opening and closing like a fish for a few moments. "Stop now, Riddle, before you get hurt," Albus said, advancing on his adversary. Tom ignored Albus's plea and regained his breath, firing another curse in a language Albus thought was Bengali. It must have got through, because, for just a moment, Albus felt his own throat tighten. Something designed to occlude the airway, then. After a moment's concentration, Albus's wordless Hindi counter-spell ended the curse, and he continued to advance on Riddle. "Stop!" Riddle shouted. He cast another series of protective charms around himself, then aimed his wand back at Albus. Before he could cast, though, Albus's Petrificus Totalus blasted through his protections as if they were tissue. They didn't even give off light as they dissolved, Albus noted with satisfaction. Apparently, Tom had spent most of his time on complex offensive spells rather than in strengthening his defensive ones. A young man's mistake, Albus thought. Riddle couldn't move. Albus relieved him of his wand with a quiet Expelliarmus and came to stand directly in front of him. "Simplicity first, Riddle, eh? You've forgotten what Professor Merrythought taught y—Petrificus Totalus!" Riddle had made a tiny movement of his arm; he'd obviously managed to end Albus's very powerful petrification hex even without the use of his wand or his voice—much as Minerva had done during the championship duel all those years ago. Impressive, Albus admitted to himself. Even Gellert Grindelwald hadn't managed to break through one of Albus's hexes, and he had been as powerful as Albus, or nearly so. Riddle had clearly been working on concentrating his power, on focussing it. Albus revised his assessment of Riddle a bit. He was not the boy he had been, but a man, Albus reminded himself—a wizard, with a grown wizard's ability to control the considerable gifts Nature had given him. Many wizards never managed it. Albus had often thought that his own greatest asset was not his power, but his will and ability to channel it. Tom Riddle was not quite as powerful as Albus Dumbledore, but he clearly possessed the same drive and focus. It would make him a formidable adversary. But not yet. Albus reached into Riddle's cloak pocket and withdrew the box. "I'll have this for now," he said, putting it in his own pocket. "If it turns out to be as harmless as you say, you'll get it back via Madoc Borgin." Albus released the hex and handed Riddle his wand without lowering his own. Riddle took the wand, his eyes never leaving Dumbledore's face. "Don't ever let me catch you skulking around here again." Albus added. "Stay away from Minerva. Or I promise you, you'll have a lot more than a minor Splinching to worry about." "You can't kill me, Dumbledore." "I don't need to kill you, Tom. You've learnt some impressive magic in your travels, no question. But you're still just a pest to me. A fly I could swat without batting an eye. You've just seen that, I think. And if you keep buzzing around, I'll do it." "And rot in Azkaban. Maybe in your father's old cell?" "Maybe," Albus said without blinking. "You won't always be around to protect her, Dumbledore. You'll have to die sometime." "As will we all. But not today, apparently." Albus said, "Go now. Have that arm seen to." Riddle clutched his wounded arm, turned, and disappeared. Albus lowered his wand and followed suit. ~oOo~ Albus resisted the temptation to open Riddle's box. When he had returned to Hogwarts, he summoned an elf and gave him two tasks: first, to ask Professors Flitwick and Meadowes to come to his office as soon as classes were done for the day, and second, to bring him a large pot of the strongest, hottest tea he could make. Albus eyed the blanket of parchment that was spread haphazardly across his desk. When the elf returned with the tea, Albus decided to take it to his quarters and warm up in a hot bath rather than finish his work at the moment. The combination of hot tea and warm water managed to thaw his nearly frozen fingers and toes and soothed his electrified nerves and aching muscles. He soaked and sipped for nearly forty-five minutes, willing himself not to think about Riddle and what had transpired that afternoon. By the time Filius and Julian appeared in the Headmaster's office, Albus felt clear-headed enough to explain calmly what he needed from them. "Are there any specific curses you'd like me to look for?" Julian asked, turning the box over to examine the bottom of it. "No. It could be anything," Albus said. "The person from whom I confiscated it has some knowledge of esoteric magic." The glance Filius gave him told Albus that his deputy now understood his concerns about the mysterious box. "A student?" Julian asked, surprised. "No," Albus said. Julian waited, as if expecting Albus to explain further. When he didn't, Julian turned his attention back to the box. "May I?" he asked, drawing his wand. "Please do," said Albus. Julian laid the box on the table and began. Ten minutes and nearly twenty spells later, Julian said, "I can't find anything on the box itself. There might still be a curse on whatever's inside, though. I'd have to examine it separately." "Thank you," said Albus. "Filius, will you have a look at the box before I open it?" Filius did so, and, like Meadowes, pronounced the box clean of any charms he could discern. "Very well," Albus said. "You might want to stand back when I open it." "Albus, let me open it. I'm the Defence master, it really should fall to me," Meadowes said. "No, Julian, but thank you. As this is not, strictly speaking, school business, it is not your responsibility." He took the box from Filius and gestured the two other wizards to back away. When they were across the room, Albus said, "Here goes nothing." At Filius's raised eyebrow, he said, "Muggle expression." Albus tore open the gilt paper that covered the box, which, denuded of its wrapping, appeared to be a small jewellery case. He opened the top. When no disaster befell the Headmaster, Filius and Julian hurried over to peer into the case with him. Inside lay a delicate silver chain bearing a pendant in the shape of a dragon. The dragon's tail coiled around its body to its mouth, which appeared to have swallowed the end of it. It was a necklace, pretty and well-made, but not expensive or unusual. It was the kind of thing one might pick up in any number of shops in Diagon Alley for a few Galleons. Why would Riddle want to give Minerva this ... trinket? Albus felt the other two staring at him, so he said, "Well, this doesn't look much like a Dark object, does it?" "No," agreed Filius. "But one never knows." "Indeed," said Albus. "So I'd like you both to test it for curses. Thoroughly." "Of course," said Julian. "It may take several days to run a full series of tests; a few of the spells take time to reveal results." "Fine. Run them, if you will, Julian, then give it to Filius for his evaluation." "Certainly, Albus." Julian took the box from Albus and put it in his pocket. Albus said, "And Julian, please lock it up safely. I don't want anyone else to handle it by mistake. All right?" "Of course." As he walked them to the door of his office, Albus said, "Thank you both for your help. Julian, I'm sorry to have kept you so late." "It's all right, Albus. I had to wait for the storm to die down, anyway. I think it's clear enough for me to Apparate now." "I should think so," Albus said. He bid them goodnight and went to his desk to attack his paperwork, his mind somewhat eased by the uneventful unwrapping of the necklace. Two days later, Julian Meadowes was blind. ← Back to Chapter 50 On to Chapter 52→ Category:Chapters of Epithalamium